


by implication

by youcouldmakealife



Series: but always in tandem [10]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 22:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7549348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quincy claps him on the shoulder, shakes it a couple times. “You got this, okay?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Sure,” Robbie says, and is pretty sure he doesn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	by implication

After Robbie’s — he doesn’t want to call it a tantrum, so let’s go with outburst, though he bets Quincy would call it a tantrum — he can’t say he’s surprised when, as their next practice is wrapping up, Quincy says, “Stay back for a minute, Robbie?”

Robbie has like zero interest in having this conversation. Negative interest. He’s also very aware that while Captain Q phrased it as a request, it was not actually a request, and if Robbie pussies out of it right now there will be an even more unpleasant conversation in his immediate future.

Georgie, who was inconveniently close to him on the ice because, well, D-partner, is looking at him now. It’s not like Robbie can tell Georgie not to fucking look at him without making this conversation even worse, but he’s really fucking tempted to say it anyway.

“Sure, Cap Q,” Robbie says. “No problem.”

Quincy doesn’t take him to a quiet corner of the room, trust that guys would back the fuck off if they saw his captain face, which they would and they do. No, he steals coach’s room right from under him, for extra privacy and probably extra awful. Robbie feels kind of like he just got called into the principal’s office. He was a good kid, it didn’t happen too much. Kid Robbie remembered it fucking sucked and avoided possible principal related situations. Adult Robbie’s definitely remembering right now. 

“So how are things?” Quincy asks.

Fuck, it’s not even like being in the principal’s office, it’s like seeing a _counselor_.

“You know,” Robbie says. “Thing-like.”

“How’re things with Dineen?” Quincy says. “Seems like there’s some history there.”

“Yup,” Robbie says, popping the ‘p’ and declining to comment any further.

“Look,” Quincy says. “I’m not asking, okay? It’s your business. You’ve got a problem with him, I’m sure there’s a reason for that, and I’m sure it’s a good one. You want to tell me, I’m willing to listen, but I’m not asking, okay?”

Robbie nods, once. Looks at his feet because he can’t look at Quincy right now. Doesn’t know if Matty told him — probably not, that’s not Matty’s style — or if Quincy’s just perceptive — definitely Quincy’s style — or simply able to put gay and furious together and come up with ‘torrid torrid romance’, because that was basically saying ‘I know you boned but we’re going to ignore that for a minute’. Which Robbie is so happy to do, honestly, fuck. 

Quincy’s totally chill about the doing dudes thing, probably comes with the territory of the whole having a gay little brother thing (Robbie’s met him, and he’s kind of hot, but he looks way too much like Quincy for Robbie to think that’d be anything but weird), but Robbie emphatically does not want to talk about his douchebag ex with him, especially since Quincy’s captaining them both. 

“You need to chill the fuck out, Robbie,” Quincy says, and Robbie looks up to glare at him.

“You don’t know the shit—” Robbie starts.

“I know,” Quincy says. “I know I don’t. I’m not telling you to fucking forgive him or become best friends, okay? I’m not asking you for that. I’m not going to ask you for that, because that’d be stupid and unfair, so stop looking at me like that’s what I’m asking.”

“Sorry,” Robbie mutters.

“What I am asking is for you to keep a lid on it around the guys,” Quincy says. “You don’t have to start acting like he’s your buddy, but if you yell at someone in my locker room and make every single guy really fucking uncomfortable, it becomes a team problem.”

“I know,” Robbie says. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just don’t do it again,” Quincy says. “I don’t know if you’re aware you’re doing it, but the way you’re acting makes it really awkward for anyone to try to actually get to know Dineen because they think they’re going to piss you off.”

Robbie clenches his jaw, looks at the floor. It’s not like he _didn’t_ know, but when Quincy says it like that Robbie sounds like a fucking douchebag bully, so that’s great. Robbie loves hearing that.

“I know this is awkward,” Quincy says. “So just for the record, it is super fucking awkward for me too, okay? I don’t exactly enjoy scolding you like a child, Robbie.”

“But if I act like a child,” Robbie mutters before he can help himself.

“Fuck off, Lombardi,” Quincy says. “Hopefully you as a kid didn’t yell shit about people’s fucking heritage and religion.”

Robbie winces. “I didn’t mean that,” he says. 

“Good, because this Protestant was fucking uncomfortable with that,” Quincy says. “And you do that one again, that’s going up to management, because I can’t even count how many ways you broke the code of conduct.”

“Does it help that I’m Catholic too?” Robbie asks.

“No,” Quincy says flatly.

“I didn’t think so,” Robbie mumbles.

Quincy sighs. “Just. Can you try to be polite in front of the guys?”

“I’ll try,” Robbie promises. Isn’t sure how well it’s going to go, but the last thing in the world he fucking wants is management getting clued into this. The idea of sitting across from Rutledge is about a million times worse than Quincy, and this conversation’s left him feeling like a pile of shit, so that’d be, what, a million piles of shit? Million Pile of Shit Lombardi, reporting for duty. 

“We good, Robbie?” Quincy says. 

“Yeah,” Robbie says. “We’re good.”

Quincy claps him on the shoulder, shakes it a couple times. “You got this, okay?” he asks.

“Sure,” Robbie says, and is pretty sure he doesn’t.

*

After the third time Robbie hooks up with Francis, he has to admit it’s maybe a thing. Or, more accurately, when he’s walking home from an econ study sesh, Cassidy on one side and Francis on the other because Francis is coming over to borrow a book (and probably like…trade blowies, but that went unsaid), Cassidy says “So this is a thing, huh?”, sounding amused, and Robbie and Francis both go bright red.

So that probably means it’s a thing. 

“So this is maybe a thing, huh?” Robbie says, after Francis has received his book in exchange for one A+ blowjob. Robbie will lend him any book he wants any time, seriously. He thinks his returning the favor maybe rated a B+, but he’s learning here, it’s a process. Francis doesn’t seem like he’s complaining, at least.

Francis turns on his side to make some room for him, which doesn’t change the fact that this bed is not big enough for two grown men, but whatever, it’s not like personal space is a thing when you just had someone’s dick in your mouth. “Maybe,” Francis says. “Do you want it to be a thing?”

Robbie takes a second to think that through, because it’s the kind of question that probably deserves a serious response. A+ head aside — and it pains Robbie to have to put that aside, because seriously, he is _so good_ at it, he is a blowjob wizard or something — Francis has this sense of humor that’s got this mean bite to it Robbie thinks is fucking hilarious when he pulls it out. Is smart, and hot, and seems to know exactly who he is, which Robbie really respects in a dude. Now that Francis doesn’t get this hunted look like Robbie’s going to gay bash him, he’s fun to hang out with, even when blowjobs aren’t in play. Like yeah, Robbie maybe was half distracted all study group because Francis mentioned borrowing a book after and that wasn’t exactly subtle ‘so we’re going to bang, right?’, but that didn’t stop him from nearly crying with laughter when Francis and Tara got into a somewhat friendly but snippy one-up contest that Francis pulled out an extra snooty tone for and then demolished her with it.

“I don’t not want it to be a thing?” Robbie says.

Francis snorts. “I don’t not want it to be a thing either,” he says, clearly making fun of Robbie’s not at all ridiculous answer, but also like. Meaning it the way Robbie did too, Robbie thinks.

“Cool,” Robbie says, and leans over to kiss him.

“I think that’s my kidney,” he whimpers a second later, while Francis cups a hand over where he’s tucked his own hand protectively over his poor probably kidney. Maybe it’s his liver? It hurts.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Francis says. “Who decided these beds should be fucking twins?”

“People who wanted to punish us for premarital sex,” Robbie groans. “Also would really probably not like the gay spin on things.”

Francis laughs. “Sorry,” he says again.

“Your elbow is sharp,” Robbie says.

“Yeah,” Francis says, rubbing his thumb over Robbie’s knuckles. “Okay, warning, I’m going to kiss you now, so stay still.”

“Maybe I want to elbow _your_ kidney,” Robbie mutters, and Francis smiles against his mouth.

Francis heads out when he’s starting to cut it close to missing dinner. Robbie was tempted to just blow the rest of Sunday off in bed (pun _so_ intended), but like, eating’s good, and they make plans to grab breakfast before econ at an actual restaurant, which kind of sounds like a date, which. Robbie likes. Like, he’s not dissing the hooking up thing, he is definitely not complaining, but, you know. He’s kind of looking forward to breakfast, even though it means he has to set his alarm early, so.

Georgie already hit up the dining hall after sending Robbie a slew of texts he didn’t get because dude in his bed, priorities, etc, but he comes down with Robbie anyway because he’s got a hole where his stomach should be and second dinners are nothing to him. Bitches about Robbie ignoring him, though, and having to eat all alone until some girls showed up, because some girls always do. 

“Sorry I didn’t cockblock you?” Robbie says. 

Georgie rolls his eyes. “You don’t sound sorry,” he says.

“I can’t imagine why not,” Robbie says, and Georgie traps his foot between his under the table, kicks his ankle lightly. 

Robbie pulls his foot away after a second, says, “So I think I have a boyfriend.” Place is basically deserted, the nearest person three tables away and wearing headphones and glaring at a textbook while shoveling food into her mouth one handed, so Robbie thinks he’s pretty safe.

Georgie looks up from his plate, frowning. “When’d that happen?” he asks.

“You know that dude I hooked up with two weeks ago?” Robbie asks.

“Dude, if you just hooked up once—” Georgie starts.

“I mean, we’ve hooked up three more times since,” Robbie says. “So.”

“So you have a fuck buddy,” Georgie says, all patient sounding and condescending. Dude has like…a billion fuck buddies to Robbie’s zero, thinks he suddenly knows everything.

“I really don’t think so,” Robbie says. _just to be clear, ‘thing’ means like dating right? Like boyfriends?_ Robbie texts Francis, just to confirm.

_Yes, you dork_ he receives back immediately, and he grins down at his phone.

“I definitely have a boyfriend,” Robbie amends.

Georgie snatches at his phone, and Robbie holds it protectively to his chest. “Nu uh, snoopy,” Robbie says.

“You didn’t tell me anything about this,” Georgie says, sounding kind of hurt.

“I told you, I don’t kiss and tell,” Robbie says.

“Do you not date and tell?” Georgie asks, which, fair. Kind of not the same thing as talking about the deets of a hook up.

“I mean, we weren’t dating until today, so,” Robbie says, then, sighs at Georgie’s expectant look. “What do you want to know?”

“Deets,” Georgie says.

“How specific,” Robbie says. “I don’t know, he’s in my econ class? Cassidy introduced us. His name’s Francis.”

“ _Francis_?” Georgie says. “He sounds like he’s a hundred, babe.”

Yeah, it’s a pretty stupid fucking name, he’s not disagreeing, but it’s not like Georgie has a leg to stand on. “Got a comment, George?” Robbie asks.

“Low blow,” Georgie says. “Low blow, Roberto.”

“George _Kenneth_ ,” Robbie adds with relish.

“How did you even—” Georgie says.

“You’re Wikipedia level famous,” Robbie says. “ _Babe_.”

“I genuinely hate you,” Georgie says, sounding nothing but fond. 

Robbie blows him a kiss, and Georgie catches it and holds it to his chest.

“Gay,” Robbie says.

Georgie snorts. “You’re going to get in trouble with your boyfriend.”

“Better stop blowing kisses like a tease,” Robbie agrees. 

“I thought we had something, Roberto,” Georgie says. “You blew me so many kisses. Did they mean nothing to you?”

“Not a thing, babe,” Robbie says, “Not a thing.”

Georgie kicks his ankle again, feet tangling with his under the table, and Robbie considers pulling back, but it’s not like anything’s changed. Georgie’s Georgie, touchy and…whatever, like he is and always has been, and it’s friendly. It’s Robbie who fucks things up in his head, twists it into this whole…thing, likes it too much or in the wrong way or whatever. 

_Wait, important questions: do you like soccer and beyonce?_ Francis has sent him.

_I’m Italian and who the fuck doesn’t like Beyonce?_ Robbie replies.

_okay, yes we can be boyfriends_ , Francis replies, and Robbie huffs out a laugh and then squawks and slaps Georgie’s hand as he moves in on his unattended dinner.

“Head up, Lombardi,” Georgie says while chewing his pilfered food, and it’s so sad that he can be gross and hot at the same time. 

“Don’t start thieving just because you’re jealous of my mad romance skillz,” Robbie says, and Georgie gives him a weird look, ends up being the one pulling his feet back, because Robbie apparently just made things awkward. He’s so great at that.

“That’s Francis, then?” Georgie asks, saying his name all weird again. Robbie’s going to start calling him George full-time if he keeps that shit up. Maybe that means he’ll be getting Roberto in return, but at least his middle name isn’t _Kenneth_ , so he’s got the edge here.

“That’s Francis,” Robbie confirms.

“Cool,” Georgie says, kind of flat, and while Robbie’s busy frowning at him he steals more of his food. Georgie’s an asshole.

“I genuinely hate you,” Robbie says, and he doesn’t think he sounds any more convincing than Georgie did, judging by the way Georgie grins.


End file.
